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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26845345">One and Only</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper'>spacehopper</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>TMA October Prompt Fics [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Related, Anal Sex, Consent Issues, Incest, Incest Kink, M/M, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Wakes &amp; Funerals</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:27:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,339</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26845345</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You’re part of me,” Peter murmured against Martin’s lips. “I would hate to lose that.” </i>
</p><p>Learning Peter is his uncle should change things. And it does, in all the ways Martin should hate, and can't quite deny.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>TMA October Prompt Fics [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954891</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>One and Only</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Kinktober Day 4 - Incest.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The chapel was cold, but at least it blocked the wind. </p><p>Or well, Martin was pretty sure it was thick stone walls that cut the howling of the storm. And the heavy wooden doors that Peter had shut behind them, the lock sliding into place with an ominous click. Trapped inside with Peter. Not exactly Martin’s idea of a good time, but it was better than being trapped out there with his family.</p><p><i>Martin’s</i> family. </p><p>He sat down on one of the rickety pews, trying to catch his breath. Was there something in the air, in the fog that wound between the pews, that made it hard to breathe? Or was it simply the simmering panic Martin felt, flaring up with each reminder of what he’d learned since his mother’s death. </p><p>“It can get a bit overwhelming, can’t it?” The bench creaked, and a leg brushed his, warm and solid. Martin couldn’t help it; he leaned into it. Even knowing he shouldn’t, not before and certainly not now. That he should shrug off the arm Peter draped over his shoulder, and hate the brush of whiskers across his forehead when Peter pulled him to his chest.</p><p>“Yes.” It was barely above a whisper, but Peter wasn’t really listening anyway. He wasn’t talking about Martin. Or at least not in a way where Martin’s answer mattered.</p><p>“It doesn’t have to change anything, you know.” His hand tightened on Martin’s shoulder. “We’re hardly a danger for any inbreeding.” </p><p>“You like it, don’t you?” Martin said, finally finding the will to pull back. Using his momentum to get to his feet, and stumble over to the cracked altar. A low stone slab that seemed wrong for a chapel like this, but then maybe that was the point. All of this was wrong. </p><p>“Are you implying I’m some sort of deviant? Or is this accusation intended to apply to our family overall. Because I can assure you, despite our reputation for being insular, we do tend to prefer bringing new members in. Why, your own grandmother—”</p><p>“Your mother,” Martin said, cutting Peter off. He sat heavily on the altar, not even caring if it was intended for some sort of sacrificial ritual. In some ways, that’d almost be a relief. “My grandmother is your <i>mother</i>, Peter.” His voice went high, and his hands tightened on the edge of the altar.</p><p>“Yes, because your mother was my sister,” Peter agreed amiably. “That is how this works. Are you sure you’re quite alright? I know this sort of thing can be taxing. We can get you to bed, if you like.” </p><p>“I’m sure you’d love that,” Martin said, scooting away as Peter joined him on the altar. </p><p>“I would, actually. Having family close at a time like this does provide a certain level of comfort.” He gave Martin a wide smile, and the worst thing was, there seemed to be a spark of sincerity in his eyes. </p><p>“Aren’t you supposed to not enjoy company?”</p><p>“Traditionally, yes. But I knew from the start you were different.” He shifted closer, and placed a finger under Martin’s chin, tipping his head up. “And now I know why.”</p><p>Before Martin could muster another protest, Peter’s mouth was on his. Warm and hungry, if still a little clumsy, though he’d gotten better over the weeks since their first kiss. </p><p>“You’re part of me,” Peter murmured against Martin’s lips. “I would hate to lose that.” </p><p>“That’s—you know that’s creepy, right? Not romantic.” Martin placed a hand on Peter’s chest, but didn’t push him away.</p><p>“Is it? I’m afraid I wouldn’t know. Like I told you before, Martin, you’re my one and only.” His lips drifted down to Martin’s neck, and Martin—damn it—let him, his head falling back as Peter kissed and nipped and licked at the sensitive skin of his throat, unbuttoning his shirt to lavish attention on his collarbones. </p><p>“You know,” Peter said, now draped over Martin and working his way slowly down Martin’s chest. “While this isn’t terribly comfortable, I’ll admit, I rather like the symbolism of it.” </p><p>“The symbolism?” Martin said rather breathlessly, as Peter rubbed a hand over Martin’s cock, already growing hard in his finely tailored trousers.</p><p>“Properly welcoming you to the family,” Peter said, unbuttoning Martin’s trousers and tugging at his waistband. And what could Martin do, but lift his hips? Leaving him exposed, trousers and underwear bunched around his calves, shirt flung open, stretched out and waiting on the slab as Peter got to his feet.</p><p>And Martin knew—he truly believed—that Peter probably wasn’t going to pull out a knife from his pocket, to spill Martin’s blood all over the altar. Not because Peter was a good man, or a kind one, but because that was far too much hassle. If he wanted to get rid of Martin, he’d quite literally and forcefully ghost him, until Martin faded out of being his or anyone else’s problem.</p><p>Sometimes, Martin wished he’d just do that. But Peter wanting him gone had never been the problem. </p><p>So he stayed where he was, propping himself up on his elbows and watching Peter undress. He didn’t try to make any attempt to escape because, well, what was the point? No one had forced him to come here. Coercion wasn’t necessary. Only the more dangerous persuasion, made easy from too long spent far too lonely. And he was too desperate to back out now. </p><p>When Peter turned to Martin, he seemed almost nervous. Which was entirely the wrong reaction. He should be horrified, like Martin must be horrified, was absolutely horrified, to feel Peter’s legs press against his thighs, and the tickle of his calloused fingers along Martin’s stomach as he settled over him. </p><p>“You’re my <i>uncle</i>,” Martin said, even though he knew this had already progressed far beyond where that would be a relevant protest. It wasn’t like it was a normal, acceptable thing to just kiss your uncle with tongue, to let him unbutton your shirt and pull down your trousers in a decidedly unfamilial way. </p><p>“Yes, I am, aren’t I?” He laughed softly, fingers dragging lightly along Martin’s cock, making him gasp. “Are you going to start calling me Uncle Peter?”</p><p>“Absolutely not,” Martin said, clenching his teeth as he struggled to control his breathing, to block out the way Peter was tugging at his foreskin, rubbing the head in exactly the right spot. He’d gotten far too good at taking Martin apart, and far too fast. But maybe that was just Martin. Maybe he was just weak, to even the worst sort of attention.</p><p>“It really is quite strange,” Peter continued. “I never thought I’d get a chance to meet any of my nieces or nephews. Never thought I’d want to.” He shifted forward, crawling up until his arse was positioned over Martin’s cock, making his intent abundantly clear. </p><p>“But I’m special,” Martin said, rolling his eyes even as his teeth dug into his lip, too late to cut off the small moan Peter drew from his lips as he again gripped Martin’s cock. </p><p>“You are.” He gave Martin a delighted grin, squirming a bit and rubbing the head of Martin’s cock against his hole. </p><p>“Peter, you know that’s going to hurt, right?” Part of him wanted Peter to say yes, wanted this to be painful and in all ways horrible. Something to suffer through, every part of it terrible and wrong and unwanted. </p><p>“It won’t. I prepared,” Peter said, giving him a sly smile as he lined up Martin’s cock, the head of it nudging his hole. Then he made a noise of satisfaction, and took Martin with a low, drawn out moan. </p><p>“Fuck,” Martin said, grabbing for Peter’s hips to stop him, or maybe to make him keep going as he bottomed out. “Peter, please—”</p><p>“Shh,” Peter said, leaning forward to kiss him, making Martin whimper as his cock was pulled from Peter. Then he grasped Martin again, and slowly—too slowly—engulfed him. “I want this to last.”</p>
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